


Birthday Drink

by moodymarshmallow



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Drug Use, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1647200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romero takes Matt out for a good time on his 21st birthday, despite Matt's protests.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Drink

"This is pointless, and I have no idea why I let you drag me out for this nonsense." Matt Miller was pouting, and doing an impressive job of it, at that. While Romero leaned against the bar, sipping a hot pink drink through a tiny stir straw, Matt stood next to him, straight-backed, with his arms crossed over his slim chest. In the dimness of the club, the neon lit piping on his jacket glowed electric blue, giving his face a ghostly pallor and reflecting off of his shiny hair. 

"You're twenty-one! You're supposed to go out, get shitfaced, and have some fucking fun for once in your life!" Romero shouted over the music. 

"The legal drinking age is eighteen in England!" Matt eyed the bright blue drink Romero was attempting to shove into his hand. "Besides! I was one-third of a criminal empire! Do you really think I couldn't get a fake ID if I wanted one?" Resigned, he sipped the drink as Romero wrapped an arm around his shoulder. 

"Are you allergic to fun?" Romero asked, leaning himself firmly against Matt's side, pushing his warm lips against his ear. Matt shuddered, despite himself, and Romero grinned. "I've got something better than booze," he murmured into his ear, the toothy smile still on his face when Matt pulled away, one eyebrow cocked quizzically. Romero pulled Matt away from the bar, his arm still around his shoulder, still hanging on him with the abundance of overwhelming affection that made Matt’s heart race more than he’d ever admit. In a dark corner, near a young woman sneaking a cigarette, Romero rested his back against the wall of the club, still holding his drink in one hand as he pulled a tiny plastic bag from his pocket. 

“You did not.” Matt frowned. 

“What else do you go clubbing for, Matt? All that time online has kept you from knowing how the world works.” Romero offered him the bag, which held four tiny purple tablets stamped with the Saints’ fleur-de-lis on one side. “I’m not going to force you,” Romero said, this time sipping his drink from the side of his glass, “but you really gotta loosen up or you’re gonna have a heart attack by the time you’re twenty-five.” 

Rolling his eyes, Matt opened the bag. He carefully pulled out one pill between his fingers, but instead of putting it to his own lips, he held it out to Romero. Romero stuck out his tongue, his eyes lighting up as Matt pressed the small pill onto it. He then took another and popped it into his own mouth, excitement rushing through him long before the MDMA even had a chance to affect him. Romero kissed him softly, warm fingers brushing through his hair and down his back to rest in the small of it, massaging absently as Romero finished his drink. 

“You’re not supposed to mix this with alcohol,” Matt said with a frown, and took Romero’s glass from him, handing it to a passing man who glanced at them only briefly before downing it and disappearing into the crowd. 

“Yeah, thanks. I forgot you were my fucking chaperone,” Romero said, but he was smiling, and he pulled Matt closer into his arms. “Wanna dance? It’s gonna take a while to kick in anyway.” 

“I do not dance,” Matt said sternly, one hand on Romero’s chest, feeling the hammer-thud of his heart under his skin. “I’m allergic to fun, remember?” 

“Riiiiiiiight.” Romero shook his head, heaving a long-suffering sigh as the woman who’d been smoking threw her cigarette butt into an empty glass and left them alone in the corner. “Why don’t you kiss me then?” 

Matt faltered in opening his mouth to make a comment, stopping midway, his lips parted silently. 

“Matty.” Romero’s voice was low, and he stroked the underside of Matt’s chin with one finger, his gaze fast and clever under his glasses, the corner of his lips curled into a knowing smirk. Matt kissed him full on that smirking mouth, taking in the smell of his cologne over the sweat and smoke and sour alcohol of the dance floor, and shuddering at the sudden pressure of Romero’s thigh firm between his legs. He gripped tight to Romero’s shoulder, dropping his head against it, pushing his flushed cheek against his neck, blue lipstick smearing on his collarbone where he kissed it. 

“Happy birthday, you little shit,” Romero whispered against his hair, and Matt laughed, first a snorting giggle, then an uncontrollable guffaw. 

“You’re horrible,” he said into his neck. “You’re absolutely bloody horrible and I love you,” he said in a rush. 

Romero said nothing, but the arm around Matt’s waist tightened, and he felt the warm press of his palm against the back of his head as he held him close, and as he waited for the ecstasy to kick in, to drag him into floating, delirious intimacy, he was sure he was already intoxicated.


End file.
